Rewrite the Stars
by desertredwolf
Summary: Welcome to H.M.S. 'Wicked Hero': The ship that Fate (or a crazy author, it's debatable) absolutely adores. Journey through all the different iterations of Neville Longbottom and Morgan le Fay's romance — some of which are more successful than others. Adventure, a lot of heartache, and a healthy dose of romance abound! [Rare pairing] [Oneshot/Drabble Collection]
1. Dance With Me (College AU)

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. All rights go to respective owners.**

* * *

 **Chapter Summary** : College! AU. Neville is dragged to a party over the winter holidays and meets the most unlikely person. Is it love?

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 **Dance With Me**

"Neville! Come on, mate. You've gotta tell us! Who was she?"

Classes had finally finished for the day, and Neville was exhausted. The first day back to school after winter holidays was always brutal, and it wasn't like he had slept much the night before anyway. He had barely opened the door and stumbled into the house that he shared with his friends, when he was promptly surrounded.

" _Neville!_ "

"What?" he asked wearily, as he shrugged his backpack off and sat on a nearby chair. Maybe he could act clueless, and they would leave him alone. If he were being honest with himself, he wasn't sure how to exactly explain last night.

It wasn't his policy to explicit describe what happened on dates, or brag about the girls he met.

"Don't _'What?'_ us, Neville," Seamus rebuked. He was practically bouncing on his seat with excitement. "You've been avoiding us all day. You know _exactly_ what we're talking about!"

 _And there goes the idea of playing dumb_ , Neville thought sarcastically.

"I've been going to _class_ all day, idiot," he replied gruffly. "Can you say the same?"

"Whatever," Seamus replied, completely unfazed. "Tell us!"

"You don't have to say anything," Harry countered from where he stood in the doorway. Neville looked at him with gratitude, which the raven-haired man returned with an easy grin.

"What?" Ron exclaimed. "Don't listen to Harry, Neville. You have to tell us! I mean, come on! She was so hot!"

"I don't think Hermione would like hearing you say that," Dean replied, without even looking up from his sketching. Ron flushed at the mention of his girlfriend, and Neville and the rest of the guys laughed. If they knew three things about Ron and Hermione, it was that they were completely devoted to each other. Ron had a terrible habit of speaking without thinking.

And also that Hermione had an awful temper.

"Well, if that's all," Neville said abruptly, standing back up and grabbing his backpack. "I'm going to get started on my homework. My botany professor assigned us the task of constructing and maintaining a terrarium with non-native plants. I have to find a way to keep tropical flowers—"

" _Neville_ ," Seamus groaned. "You didn't take about plants with this girl, did you? Because — in case you haven't noticed, mate — you're the only one who really cares." Ron nodded emphatically in agreement.

Neville felt himself flush at the comment. He saw Harry glare at Seamus and Ron, and knew there would be an argument if he didn't intervene. Maybe, just this once, he would toss them a bone.

"You know what? I _did_ talk about plants," he said, much more fiercely than he intended. "And you know what else? I don't think she minded."

.oOo.

 _The Night Before_

.oOo.

It was the party of the year — _the_ event to attend — and Neville wanted to be anywhere else.

Literally, _anywhere_ else.

The problems all started when some girl — _Astoria_ , Neville reminded himself — had invited Harry and Ron to her older sister's party, completely ignoring the fact that Daphne Greengrass barely tolerated the two guys. But Harry and Ron were the star football players for their university, so Daphne had gritted her teeth and told them they were welcome to come. They were also told to bring friends, so that's how he got an official invite. However, it wasn't even like they weren't already invited in the first place. It was common knowledge that it was an open initiation to anyone who heard about it through the grapevine, and most people were bound to drop by at some point during the evening.

It was just all about saving face with the Greengrass family. Harry and Ron were welcome to come to the party, and bring whomever they wanted, because of their status at school. But since their families historically disagreed on politics and ideology, Daphne openly disliked them and would never _personally_ invite them.

Politics like that made Neville's head hurt. He never cared for them and neither did Ron. Harry would claim the same, but he was scarily good at understanding and playing by the rules, anyway.

But that's how he found himself at a fancy party in some lake-side manor that he would rather not be at, dressed to the nines and wearing a stupid fedora Dean said would go with his outfit. Dean said it made his look "classic." Neville just felt out of place.

By this point, it was almost midnight, and his friends had long since abandoned him. Dean and Seamus were chatting up some girls, while Ron and Harry were dancing with their girlfriends on the dance floor. Neville was standing to the side of the dance floor, watching them have fun when a voice spoke up next to him.

"Do you want a drink?"

Neville turned to find a stunningly beautiful woman talking to him. She looked to be about his age. Soft, chaotic black curls framed her face and pale green eyes, and a colorful tapestry of detailed watercolor flower tattoos graced her upper arms. He could pick out pale yellow globeflowers, purple heather, cottongrass, pastel pink Rhododendron, and yellow gorse.

 _She's really beautiful. She asked if I wanted a drink. She has flower tattoos. And she's talking to me. Why?_

A gentle cough snapped him out of his tumultuous thoughts.

She was smiling at him, and was still waiting for him to respond to her question. At least, he _thought_ she was talking to him. He quickly glanced behind him, just in case. No one was there.

It was just the two of them.

"Uh… I mean, shouldn't I be asking you that?" he replied.

 _Smooth, Neville._ _Real smooth._

She laughed at his flustered response, but it wasn't in a mean way. It was gentle and sweet, and her eyes sparkled long after she stopped. Neville knew in that moment he was hopelessly in love. He had always thought those stories about people just _knowing_ were dumb, and even if they did occur, they would never happen to him.

He was so very clearly wrong.

"Sure, if you want to," she replied with a shrug. "I just asked because you looked like you needed saving."

Oh, that would explain it. She was just talking to him out of pity. He must look pretty lonely, standing there all by himself. He could feel his face fall.

"What? Oh, no! Not like that!" she exclaimed, a look of horror on her face. "I didn't mean it like that! I just meant, well … you were standing all by yourself and I didn't know why. I mean, you're cute and seemed nice, and honestly? I needed a bit of saving, too."

"You do?" Neville asked, his confidence boosted. She nodded in response.

"Don't look back, but there's a guy on the other side of the dance floor glaring at us," she said. She shot a quick glance over his shoulder and grimaced. "Well, he's glaring at me. You're just being glared at due to proximity."

"And why is he glaring at you?" Neville questioned.

"You know, I can understand theoretical particle physics, but I can't understand college guys," she replied, rolling her eyes. "They're all idiots. You would think they would understand the concept of 'no' — or at least, a kick to the balls when the word doesn't sink in."

Despite her request, he looked behind him. Across the dance floor, there was not just one guy glaring at her, but _three_. They were all oversized jocks. He glared at them and offered a rude gesture.

"Are you okay?" he asked as he turned back around. He reached up and gently tucked a curl behind her ear. She blushed, and he hastily put his hand back down.

"I'm fine. They didn't touch me," she replied with a wry grin. "Otherwise, there would be broken bones — and I would have been the one dealing them out, _not_ receiving them. But honestly they're like trolls: limited intelligence and bigger babies than they appear. Just act bigger than they are, and they run to a corner to cry and sulk."

Neville felt his lips quirk into a smile. "Trolls?" he said. "That's an odd analogy."

"Yeah, well it's true," Morgana replied. "Aren't trolls really dumb in fairy tales? Anyway, speaking of fairy tales, thanks for being my knight in shining armor. I appreciate it."

"It's not a problem. You won't have to deal with anyone you don't want to," Neville swore. "Not when you're with me." She raised an eyebrow at that.

"No offense, or anything. You're…" She raised a hand and moved to touch his chest, only to pull back at the last second. "…strong, but there's three of them. I didn't want to scare you off."

"I can handle myself in a fight," he said with a confident grin. "Also, I feel like there might be a few more than three of them. You're holding back again."

She glared at him. The intensity of her stare was lost when her lips twitched into a small smile.

"Shut up. Anyway, you never said what you were doing all alone."

He shrugged.

"This really isn't my scene," he explained. "My friends dragged me here. I would rather be working on my miniature greenhouse. That's part of what I'm studying, by the way. Botany and planetary sciences."

"That's cool," she said. "You must like my tattoos then."

"I like _you_."

The bold words just spilled out of his mouth. He watched as her cheeks vividly flushed in shock, and he could feel his doing the same. Why had he said that? They had just met—

He didn't even know her _name_.

Before he could try and apologize, she decided to break the silence. Taking a daring step forward, in one movement, she looped her arm around his waist and took his hat off his head. Neville felt his heart beat wildly in his chest.

"A botanist and a physicist," she said softly, "what an odd pair. Dance with me?"

"Of course," he said smoothly, her face lighting up in response. "Just one condition, though."

"What?" she asked a little suspiciously.

"I would really like to know your name. I'm Neville."

She froze and then started laughing. "We kind of skipped over that, didn't we? I'm Morgana."

 _Morgana._

He smiled and opened his mouth to say something, when she cut him off. She grabbed his arm and pulled him onto the dance floor.

"Eyes on me, mister," she said jokingly.

"Why would I look anywhere else, when you're here in front of me?" he replied.

She rolled her eyes.

"Just shut up and dance with me."

"Yes, ma'am!"

* * *

Prompt ( _Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry — Writing Club_) Write about your OTP at a party.

Optional Prompts Used:

(au) University/College

(dialogue) "Do you want a drink?"

(object) Hat

(song) "Shut Up and Dance" by Walk the Moon

(word) Colorful

 **Word count (not including title or author's notes): 1781**


	2. Midwinter (TimeTravel AU)

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. All rights go to respective owners.**

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 **Chapter Summary:** The year is 750 C.E. The location is the Fairy Glen in Scotland. Morgana is worried whether or not she is 'good' enough for Neville, and if magic will except her Solstice sacrifice.

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 **A/N — Warning: This fic touches on mental health and illness.**

* * *

 **Midwinter**

 _Breathe, Morgana. Just … breathe._

She repeated the words, again and again, in a conscious effort to remind herself to be calm. There was nothing to worry about, and everything was going to be fine. But as it always was with this type of thing, the more she thought about it, the more she felt herself spiraling deeper into anxiety and fear. Her hands shook, almost uncontrollably, and she forced herself to take a shuddering breath.

 _One… Two… Three._

Morgana exhaled and opened her eyes.

The late afternoon air was frosty and clear. She could clearly see her breath; it hung, suspended in midair. Powdery snow thinly blanketed the ground — although, there were much deeper drifts in the surrounding hills and mountains. The landscape was stunningly beautiful, but also wild and lonely. It stretched endlessly in all directions, perfect and untouched.

Morgana felt something that had long been repressed and burdened inside her begin to stir — or at least attempt to come back alive. She felt a twinge of disappointment and regret. In the past, she had once felt intimately connected with nature and the world.

At one point in her life, she had known where she _belonged_ and had reveled in it.

That, however, was before. Those times had been happier; they had been before she had compromised her morals, little by little accepting darkness into her life. Those first steps had sent her falling down a path she had never thought she would travel. After awhile, she had no longer believed that she belonged in the light.

Then one day, she had met Neville. He was brave and kind, and someone who had magic, just like her. Although, he was out of place in many ways; being a time traveling accident of a poor runic array the most obvious of them. But he was someone who, for reasons that were beyond her, trusted her.

He had seen something in her, when no one else had or cared to try.

 _ **And you do not deserve him**_ _,_ a voice unrelentingly whispered into her mind. _ **He is good and kind — and you can never go back to the way you were.**_

 _ **It is hopeless**_ _,_ added another. _ **Your sacrifice will not be accepted.**_

 _ **What makes you think that you can be good again? Ha! What a joke.**_

 _ **You think you are powerful, but you are not.**_

 _ **You cannot even send the man you love back to his own time.**_

 _ **You can never be redeemed.**_

 _ **You are worthless.**_

The vicious and unrelenting whispers echoed in her mind, and more seeds of doubt took root. Morgana felt her stomach twist. There was no denying the truth to some of those words, but she fought against them all the same. She could not stop now; she had to keep moving forward. But the feeling of hopelessness rose in her chest anyway, eating away at her like festering rot, and she could not stop the cold tears that began to sting her eyes.

The crunch of gentle footsteps in the snow had her furiously wiping her eyes.

"Are we here?" Neville asked. He looked into her eyes and frowned. "Hey, are you okay?" The sweet worry was plainly evident in his voice, which only caused Morgana's heart to ache more.

"I am fine," she quickly responded, wiping her eyes one last time. "It is just the cold."

"You should have said something," Neville said. A flick of his wrist brought his wand falling out of his holster. It should have been a smooth, effortless motion, but he fumbled the catch and his wand tumbled lightly into the snow. Blushing, he picked it up and refreshed their fading warming charms. He quickly stowed the wand back into its holster.

Despite the weight on her heart, Morgana felt her lips quirk into a small smile. Circe, he was sometimes so helpless.

"You really need to practice that more," she said fondly.

"I know," he replied with a sheepish grin. "Anyway, you didn't answer my question. Are we here?"

He shifted the pack on his back and took in the landscape before them. The vista was beautiful, breathtaking even, but she knew it did not look like much — _especially_ not after hiking all day to arrive at this specific location. What they could not physically see, however, she could still feel, despite her disconnect from the natural magic of the world.

The rolling hills and towering mountains, the glens and icy lochans, were all alive. While she could not see the glow of magic, she could feel it thrum beneath her feet and in the crystal clear air.

It was the heartbeat of the world.

"Yes, Neville," she whispered. "We are here."

Shrugging off the pack he carried, he dropped it to the ground. Rubbing his hands together, he flicked his wrist again. Once more, his wand snapped out of the holster and fell into his palm — this time with only a slight fumble. He looked up at her with a large grin, which she could not help but match. An almost imperceptible movement saw her own wand flash into her waiting hand.

"Show off," he muttered.

Her chest tightened slightly. Was he angry with her? She had not felt guilt like this in a long time. All she had done was summoned her wand. Was that wrong?

 _ **Unworthy**_ _,_ the voices whispered in her mind. _**Failure. Prideful. Liar.**_

 _Stop it!_ she thought back harshly.

Morgana looked up and met Neville's gaze. A smile and twinkling eyes told her that he was just teasing her. She felt herself relax.

"Always," she replied, trying to match the light-hearted nature of the banter he had begun.

Circe, he was an idiot. But then again, so was she for falling in love with him.

"Come on," she said, rolling her eyes. "There is not much daylight left. We have to get moving."

.oOo.

The unpacking process was cut down to a matter of minutes with magic. It was the set up, however, that took up the most of their time.

As logs of wood and other packages had flown out of the pack Neville had carried, he had joked that it would have been a challenge to carry all of it without the feather-light and expansion charms — but he still would have tried for her. At least, she thought he had been joking. Who would try that without the charms? That would have been impossible. But when she had caught his gaze, his eyes had twinkled with mirth and something else … admiration? Respect? Loyalty? _Love?_

Love, though unlikely, was what she now longed for above all else; his love, specifically.

She did not know when it had happened exactly, but one day it was if she had woken up and realized that somewhere along the way, she had fallen in love with this brave, compassionate — albeit slightly forgetful and clumsy — man. It was frustrating, in more ways than one, because he had never made any feelings other than friendship known to her.

Neville trusted her, that much was obvious. He believed in her ability to be good and to always do better. He had never mentioned love, but she had gone and fallen in love with an accidental time traveler anyway.

She had also promised that she would help him get home.

Which was the whole reason why they were currently standing in a cold and lonely glen, far from any resemblance of human activity. She had hit a bit of an obstacle in their quest.

It had taken months for her to trust him. Looking back now, she realized that she had wasted so much time. It had not been fair to Neville because it had taken even more months after that to figure out the correct potions, runes, and enchantments to send him back — let alone the time it actually took to obtain those items.

The last piece of the puzzle was a Gloine nan Druidh — a Druids' Glass — that had been enchanted and blessed in the light of the stars. Morgana was the only one capable of wielding the magic to enchant the stone, but the blessing required an act of true love — an act of pure Light magic.

That was beyond her abilities.

In the past it had not always been that way, but now her ledger dripped in red. In order to enchant the Gloine nan Druidh, she had to balance the scales.

Hence, the trip into the wilds of the Highlands.

Lost in her tumultuous thoughts, the hours slipped by in companionable silence, and they continued to unpack and set up their camp. A tent was erected and a large fire pit was set up a little way from the main site. As the sun dipped down toward the horizon, Morgana set fire to the pile of wood that was the foundation of their bonfire.

"What now?" Neville asked, brushing the dirt off his pants. The fire, urged on by dry kindling and magic, crackled and flared to life.

"Now we draw the runes. Want to help?" she asked innocently.

"Uh, I m-mean— Do w-we have to?" he stuttered, as Morgana started to laugh. Even that was different around him. The sound of her laughter, echoing across the frigid lochans and streams, was light and carefree; even to her ears, it no longer sounded cold and harsh.

Neville froze in shock before slowly realizing that she was simply teasing him. He grinned, although it seemed a little shaky.

"No, Neville," she said with a smile. "There are no runes involved. I promise. Honestly, have you not ever celebrated the Solstice before?"

"No," he replied, shaking of his head. "I haven't. I've heard plenty of stories, but surprisingly Gran wasn't too keen on the Old ways and traditions."

"Well, this will be special then," she said softly. She took a step closer toward the now roaring fire, only to feel a hand on her shoulder stop her in her tracks.

"Whatever you are going to do," Neville said firmly, "just please stay safe. I- Just don't do anything reckless."

She glanced between the flickering flames and his concerned face. Slowly, her mind made the connections. Honestly, what had he thought she was going to do? Sacrifice _herself_?

"Neville," she asked, "just what do you think celebrating the Solstice involves?"

"Uh, well … I know there are sacrifices involved," he replied hesitantly. "And I know you've been saying that it's your fault that the last piece of the time traveling spell won't work."

She must have looked devastated — because that was how she certainly felt — and he rushed to reassure her.

"No. I don't blame you!" he stated. He held her hands and pulled her close, and she felt her heart stop. "I promise. But sometimes, I think you blame yourself and you shouldn't. It's not your fault."

She smiled sadly and took a step back. Her hands slipped out of his, and she suddenly felt the distance between them.

"But it _is_ my fault, Neville."

Turning, she faced the towering fire. She closed her eyes. Blocking out the sounds of the world and her worrying heart, she fell inside herself, finding the radiant power that was her magic. Her normally dull and contained center was flashing and sparking with barely restrained energy. Instead of attempting to bring the magic under her control, however, she instead allowed it to consume her.

It felt like she had tumbled into a frozen loch; it took her a moment to remember how to breathe.

Her eyes were once again open — in more ways than one. She could now see the flickering filaments of magic in the air, connecting and weaving everything into a perfect living tapestry. Glancing behind her, she could see Neville's aura; it blazed with gold and earthy greens. She looked down at her own hands and saw the grim aura around them.

The once joyful colors of sea green and aquamarine were streaked with black and sickly red lines. She fought back against the quickly rising fear and doubt.

 _ **It is too late**_ _,_ a voice whispered.

 _ **How can you fix this? It is irreparable.**_

 _ **You are broken.**_

 _ **Ha! What a wasted trip.**_

 _ **I bet Neville hates you. He pities you.**_

 _ **He should.**_

 _ **Yes, he should pity you.**_

 _ **There is nothing left.**_

 _ **Nothing.**_

 _ **Absolutely nothing. Just give up.**_

 _ **Yes. Yes! Just give up!**_

 _ **Give up.**_

She felt herself falling into a black hole — the voices taunting and mocking her — when a hand on her waist pulled her back to reality. Morgana felt Neville stand behind her and gently pull her close in a protective embrace. He leaned down and whispered into her ear.

"I can't see what you can," he said softly. She distantly thought it was sweet, that he thought what she was _seeing_ bothered her. The magic she could handle; her thoughts were another tale. "But whatever it is, you can handle it. I believe in you."

Focusing on the fire and each steady breath Neville took, Morgana found her courage and began to speak.

"As the light of day fades into the longest night of the year, we gather in celebration," she intoned. "For we know that winter is not a time of death — at least, not permanently. Even though we cannot see it, we know that life is growing just beneath the surface, waiting for the light of spring. Tonight we celebrate the blessings the gods and goddesses have provided, and humbly ask that they will continue to do so."

Morgana reached into her left pocket and pulled out the Gloine nan Druidh. The stone was small and smooth; there was a perfect hole in its center. She clutched it in the palm of her hand.

"The wheel turns," she continued formally. "Things never happen the same way twice, and we can never truly go back to what we once were."

At those words, she felt Neville tighten his hold on her. Grasping his hand, Morgana laced her fingers through his. She gave his hand a small, comforting squeeze.

"I have failed," she whispered, feeling incredibly vulnerable. "For all the death and destruction I have caused, I am truly sorry. But as the wheel turns and continues on, so does life. I cannot go back."

 _ **Failure.**_

She let go of Neville and flicked her wrist. Her wand dropped into her waiting hand, and she held it horizontal over some of the smaller flames.

"I ask the blessing of the gods and goddesses—"

 _ **Weak.**_

"—for power is rooted in humility, not control."

Her wand seemed to fight against her, almost as if it were alive and sensed her intentions. She gritted her teeth and held firm.

"There is no going back, but I refuse to remain as I am," she said, her heart pounding against her chest. "I offer up my powers and magic, in exchange for the blessing and enchantments needed to send Neville home."

As Neville began to protest, she expected to feel regret or anxiety — something that would give her pause. Instead, there was only peace.

"I love you, Neville," she confessed.

Before he could say anything more, she tossed her wand into the flames. As soon as it hit the embers, magic blasted through her body — coursing through her veins like molten fire — and she fell to her knees, screaming.

She saw her life flash before her eyes and instinctively knew that the gods and goddesses were judging her intentions. Morgana saw the good and bad of her life, but was ashamed to see it was mostly terrible things. Not that it was a surprise, but it still was painful to see. Before she could dwell on the matter too long, the magic left her body.

It was all over and done with in less than a second.

"Morgana!" Neville shouted. Her vision slowly returned to normal and she weakly looked to her side. Neville was on his knees next to her, his arm still around her waist. "Morgana, are you okay?"

Wearily lifting her right hand, she said the only thing that she could think of to answer his question.

" _Lumos._ "

Light flared in her palm and danced onto her fingertips. Morgana felt herself shatter into a million pieces. Neville pulled her close, as she began to sob.

"It's okay, Morgana," he said, rubbing small circles on her back. "It's okay. We'll figure out something else. I promise."

There was nothing else, though. They both knew that. She had been his only hope, and she had let him down. Perhaps worse was the feeling that she knew she would never be good enough for him. He was Light, and she was the exact opposite.

The rejection of her sacrifice proved that without a doubt.

* * *

 **Word count (not including title and author's notes): 2795**


	3. A Spark of Hope (VoldemortWins AU)

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. All rights go to respective owners.**

* * *

 **A/N: I'm working on a short follow-up — sequel? alternative ending? — to "Midwinter" (chapter 2 in this collection) to offer a less depressing outcome.**

 **Chapter Summary:** In a world where Harry is dead and Voldemort won, there is still an active resistance fighting against the new regime. Two people become the unlikely legendary leaders of the rag-tag group of rebels.

* * *

 **A Spark of Hope**

" _Traitor!_ "

Bellatrix hissed into her ear, as she roughly fell to her knees next to a bloodied Neville. He smiled at her, but the amount of bruises and blood made it more of a grimace. It would seem that Draco Malfoy had held nothing back when … _speaking_ with him.

"Morgana," Neville said, his voice cracking with pain. "What are you—"

He broke off with an agonizing scream and fell facedown on the ground. Morgana could only watch in horror, as he writhed in ever increasing agony under Bellatrix's Cruciatus Curse. She felt like she was going to throw up. There was nothing to do, except watch and pray to whatever deity that was listening that the sick bitch would stop soon.

She almost didn't notice it at first. Neville — her rebel comrade and lover — held her attention. But out of the corner of her eye, she saw shadows creep and grow along the edges of the room. It became almost difficult to breathe, as the energy swirling in the air became oppressive.

" _Cease, Bellatrix._ "

 _He_ was here.

Voldemort stepped into her field of view, arrogantly sneering down at her. She may have been stripped of her wand, her hands may have been bound, but she would not bow. Morgana straightened her spine and glared at the so-called "Dark Lord." He was _weak_ — and love made her strong.

And maybe just a little sarcastic, too.

"Oh, darling, look!" she said excitedly, nudging Neville with her foot. "Junior's here!"

In her mind, the following pain from Voldemort's Cruciatus was worth the comment.

"You _dare_ address your Lord that way?" shrieked Bellatrix, as Morgana weakly sat back up. Her muscles protested, but she pressed on — there were people counting on both her and Neville.

"What do you think, love?" Morgana asked Neville, blatantly choosing to ignore the raging Bellatrix and seething Voldemort. "Thirty more seconds?"

A large snake slithered into the room. Morgana watched as Nagini curled at Voldemort's feet.

"Better make that ten," Neville responded lightly. Morgana fought back a smirk, as Neville's bruises and cuts started to fade — almost like magic.

"What is going on," Voldemort demanded. Nagini hissed dangerously.

"We caught a spy in our mix—" Bellatrix began to explain, before Morgana caught her off.

"Yeah," she said, brushing the dust off her pants. Neville reached over and tucked a stray curl behind her ear. "You caught the spy we _wanted_ you to find. Thank you, Neville."

Voldemort and Bellatrix, as well as the rest of the attending Death Eaters, were frozen in shock. One minute, Morgana and Neville's hands were bound, and the next second they weren't?

" _What is going on!_ " Voldemort repeated.

"Oh, you know," Neville replied, pulling a pen out of his pocket. He clicked the side, which transformed it into the gleaming sword of Gryffindor. "A little of this and that. I adore these glamours, love. Draco does such a good job with them."

"I know. Isn't he great, darling? I think we should keep him," Morgana idly replied, wandlessly and silently summoning her wand back from Bellatrix. "Together?"

"I couldn't do it without you," Neville replied fervently.

" _What are you doing?_ " Bellatrix screamed.

"Hm? Oh," Morgana said, moving to stand back-to-back with Neville. She quickly stunned — Neville made her promise not to use Darker curses, bless him — a couple of overeager Death Eaters.

"We're the diversion, bitch!"

The surrounding wards — ones that Draco Malfoy helped them take down from the inside — shattered. Numerous pops sounded from inside the room, as the Resistance Apparated into the building.

And the fight was on.

* * *

Prompt ( _Scavenger Hunt — The Golden Snitch_ ): 'We all have our favorite pairings, but what's yours? Maybe you should show me how well they work together.' Word count: 500-600

 **Word count (not including title and author's notes): 599**


	4. Fighting Demons (Soulmates AU)

**Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. All rights go to respective owners.**

* * *

 **A/N—Soulmate!AU where one night, soulmates begin sharing each other's dreams.**

* * *

 **Let Me Help You Fight Your Demons**

Neville was dreaming. There was no other explanation for his surroundings.

It was night, and he was in a strange city. No one was around him. He was walking down the sidewalk. It was odd that he was alone. Gardens and dark trees and empty homes lined his path. He kept walking.

There was nothing else to do.

He turned the corner and suddenly, she was standing there, in the middle of the street. Her long black hair hung loosely to her shoulders, and a dark green dress clung to her frame.

She looked up at him with fear in her eyes.

"You shouldn't be here!" she shouted. The shadows suddenly came alive and swallowed them both whole—and then Neville was awake. His heart pounded against his rib cage.

It seemed that he had just met his soulmate.

.oOo.

Very quickly, Neville learned that his soulmate had—well, _nightmares_ was the only word that came close to describing what she experienced every night.

Of course, he was fine. Nothing terrible ever actually happened in real life. It just felt like he didn't sleep during the nights they shared dreams, which was about every other evening. The next morning, it felt as if he had spent all night running through impossible towns and dark forests, fighting monsters and outwitting bad guys.

He asked his grandmother if he could start learning how to use a sword. She gave him an odd look but didn't ask any questions, and just quietly hired him a tutor.

.oOo.

He was dreaming again. This time they were sitting in the dining car of a train. Dream-people sat and chatted around them, and he tried to relax in his chair. His soulmate sat across from him.

She wore a forest green shirt and black leggings, and she looked about as shaky as he felt.

"Thank you," she said, quickly and without preamble. "I know that the last few weeks must have tough for you."

"They must not have been easy for you either," Neville replied graciously. The young woman shook her head.

"That is the point, however," she replied. "My dreams have been better since you arrived. They are dark, of course, but they are also stranger. I still do not understand these clothes or some phrases you use. They have been better, though. I am no longer so afraid when I dream."

They sat in companionable silence before Neville chuckled to himself. At her questioning glance, he explained.

"You know, I've been helping you fight shadow monsters for weeks. But I don't know your name or who you are. Where do you live?"

"I live in a castle called Hogwarts," she replied. "My name is Morgana."

Shock flooded his system. Before he could respond, he woke up.

.oOo.

He learned that aspects of her dreams predicted the future, and he had never been so glad for Trelawney's class before.

Neville knew that they weren't like other soulmates. Harry talked about his calm and serene dreams, while Seamus said his always took place in a coffee shop. No one else had a soulmate from one thousand years ago either.

He refused Dreamless Sleep potions when he started struggling in class. Morgana needed him. Time separated Neville from his soulmate, but their dreams brought them together.

* * *

Prompt ( _Anime Week — The Golden Snitch_ ): Your Name: Write a soulmate!AU

Dessie / Castelobruxo, South — 10 points

 **Word count (not including title and author's notes): 549**


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